Invisible Foe

by Ronald Cove

  I could see Dave was getting slightly impatient with all this small talk. He suddenly raised his hand “Yes right we’ll see if we can get somethin’ done about that, but in the meantime what we really came for my love, was to find out if yer can remember anythin’ out of the ordinary that ‘appened that night of the bombin’” he gently enquired, without, not for the first time I might add, coming straight to the point. “Well, what the bleedin’ ‘ell d’yer think ‘appened? Them buggers were back again rearrangin’ the fuckin’ place” she flatly told him. “Yes I know all that mother, but did you notice anyone or anythin’ out of the ordinary that day?” Dave finally got across. “Oh, yer should-av ask-us t’other day, there was that sodden git in the bleedin’ airforce uniform, a-wanderin’ around ‘ere ‘alf the bleedin’ night. Thought no one could see ‘im, but I was a-sittin’ ‘ere in the bleedin’ dark, eatin’ me bleedin’ toffees and I asaw the bugger sneakin’ into the ol’ matchstick gate and sneakin’ out agin” she thoughtfully revealed. That’s when Dave jumped to his feet, grabbed both the old girls hands and kissed them with genuine affection “Thanks mother, you lovely lady, that’s exactly what we wanted to ‘ear, a man in RAF uniform you say?” Dave said in excitement.

  18:

  SWINGING AT AIR

  AND JABBING AT SHADOWS

  With only a pack of cigarettes and half a box of matches in his briefcase, the bogus RAF Cpl: Fletcher felt a good deal safer. After all he reasoned, he wasn’t carrying anything incriminating, he could now relax a trifle and make his way back to Warlingham. He realised sooner or later of course, a change of uniform would be called for, but for all intents and purposes, this one must suffice for the time being. He had decided to hitch-hike a ride back to Warlingham, and luck was with him at his first attempt thumbing a lift. Sadly however his luck began to dwindle away when he jumped into the vehicle and found himself sitting next to an RAF Sergeant. After throwing his briefcase onto the back seat, he addressed the sergeant named Rowland “Hi sarge, nice car, what is it ‘Vauxhall’?” he cheerfully enquired. “Yeah, it’s one of their new efforts, anyway forget the bloody car, where the hell have you been Corporal?” he asked in not a too friendly tone. The bogus corporal stared back at him in utter surprise. “I had a weekend pass, sarge” he quickly explained. “Yes my old son, but that expired some time ago, and we’ve got people out looking everywhere for you” the sergeant admonished him. “Jesus Christ sergeant it’s only been a few hours, and anyway I got stuck on a bloody train that kept stopping and starting because of the bombing, then I was entombed in an air- raid shelter for half the night” Cpl: Fletcher offered in his defence. “That’s as maybe but you’ll still be up in front of the old man tomorrow morning” he was warned. “Ah well, what will be will be as they say” the corporal relented, but inwardly he thought, somehow or other Sgt: Rowland must be disposed of, and the sooner the better.

  *

  Once back at Bow police station Dave sacrificed his last three cigarettes. We all lit up, then having opened and begun rummaging through a drawer in the desk of Assist: Chief Constable Allan’s office, clever sod Dave suddenly stood back, waved a sheet of paper above his head “I’ve got it, ‘ere it is” he sung out, then laying the paper on top of the desk, poked a finger at it “See Bill that’s what we wanted, a connection; look there, on the same day Constable Taylor reported he had reason to converse with an RAF Corporal in Tredegar Road, well that same night our ol’ girl saw a bloody RAF bloke creepin’ about” Dave cheerfully presented his evidence. “Ah now I’m with yer mate” I’d finally cottoned on. “We now know who the bloody ‘ell we’re lookin’ for, an RAF corporal” I happily passed on this information to DC. Willis, who just nodded and smiled. Dave happily blew two smoke rings my way, then said, “Right, where the bloody ‘ell do we find this bugger?” “On a bleedin’ aerodrome of course,” I suggested.

  *

  It was when Sgt: Rowland drove by a recently bombed building that Cpl: Fletcher struck on what he considered to be a wonderful idea. His only problem he realised, was putting his idea into being. First, he must by some means have Sgt: Rowland stop the car. Once this had been achieved, second, he could make some excuse for opening the car boot, where he knew a large heavy spanner should be. So well on their way to Biggin Hill, Fletcher suddenly sung out “Christ sarge: I’m bursting for a slash, can we stop a minute?” “Hang on a second,” the sergeant said, showing no sign of suspicion “Here will this do? nip behind those bushes over there” he instructed. Having spent a couple of minutes behind a bush, Cpl: Fletcher reappeared. “That’s better,” his voice rung out, smooth and clear. Sgt: Rowland now out of the car threw down an half-smoked cigarette. “Ready?” he called slipping back behind the steering wheel. “Yes Sarge” came the short answer, followed very quickly by “Hang on a second sarge, I think you’ve got a flat one here”. Rowland wound down his window “What you on about corporal?” he called. By this time however the bogus corporal had opened said boot and was clutching a very large spanner. He called to Rowland “Don’t worry sarge, I’ll use this foot pump” no answer was forthcoming. So now satisfied the sergeant would just sit and wait, he began to manoeuvre silently alongside the drivers’ side of the car. On seeing that sergeant Rowland was about to vacate the car for a second time, Fletcher waited until his man stood upright, then he wielded the spanner down with a force that could only be accomplished by a desperate man. He then slid smartly around the door which opened from front to back. As Sgt: Rowland sunk to his knees Cpl: Fletcher manoeuvred his way clear of the door and struck him twice more to be certain, then hustled the sergeant back inside arranging his body on the passenger seat. Having achieved this, he heaved the spanner into some nearby bushes, closed the car boot then jumped into the drivers’ seat, reversed slightly, executed a complete turn and drove back to the bombed-out building they had passed earlier.

  *

  Having decided that Hornchurch aerodrome was now out of the equation, on account of old Danny Ross getting himself murdered in Stanley Road, DI. Selby reasoned that our RAF man would not want to stay around Hornchurch any longer than necessary, to which I fully agreed, simply because now we were thinking along the lines that if Danny Ross himself had been an enemy agent, whose job it had been to keep the police in Hornchurch running around like blue arse flies, then someone had dropped a serious bollock, because what they had actually achieved was to have this part of Essex running alive with half the bloody nations police force, which therefore meant that any enemy agent operating in this area would now be seriously hampered, not on account of the police force running around in turmoil, but now looking methodically for a murderer, who could well be connected with enemy agents.

  Dave began to summarise “Now look Bill” he began “number one” he held up one finger “there’s that RAF bloke who was enquiring about Old Ford Road, number two” a second finger went on display “our old girl opposite Bryant & May also claimed she’d clocked an RAF man ‘angin’ about the same night”. Dave went silent a second or two, stared straight at me, a smile covering his face then added “and don’t let’s forget just recently that ticket collector at Hornchurch station reported a suspicious bloke in air force uniform”. By now of course dear old Dave was looking real pleased with himself. I nodded my agreement to everything he had said. We then both took and lit a cigarette offered by our silent partner DC. Willis, who like always took one drag then blew a long stream of smoke from his nostrils. Dave offered up another two perfectly formed smoke rings, while I on the other hand took in a lungful of smoke and tried to speak at the same bloody time, which caused me to have a gigantic coughing spasm. Dave came to my rescue, giving me several pats on the back in an over-enthusiastic manner, nearly knocking me arse over tip. “Enough” I managed to croak. “Alright Bill?” he enquired. I just nodded while still gasping for breath. “Good” Dave acknowledged as a worried frown slipped from his face. “Now” he went on “one other thing I reckon worth mentioning, not long ago a rai
lway worker reported some bugger had thrown a nut and bolt from a train, I think it was late last night. Anyway the bloody thing ‘it’ ‘im on the leg, and now I’m awondering if that incident ‘as anythin’ to do with our boy” Dave ended his monologue there, shrugged his shoulders in a manner that indicated doubt.

  It was at this point our silent partner spoke. He thoughtfully butted in with “I think Biggin Hill would be the likely place for him to be right now” DC. Willis solely advised. “Why Biggin Hill Tony?” Selby asked. “Well Sir, a few days ago they had trouble there. Apparently a jeep blew up and a couple of aircraft sustained some unexplained damage, and apparently no reason was established” Willis enlightened us. “He may be right there Dave” I threw in, then quickly added, “let’s drive down and see”. “Good idea. Willis get the bleedin’ car,” Dave ordered with authority, as though it was his bloody idea in the first place.

  *

  On arriving at the bombed-out building Cpl: Fletcher carefully arranged Sgt: Rowland’s body under a heap of rubble, he then returned to what he now considered to be his car, settled himself behind the steering wheel, lit a cigarette and began taking stock of his situation. First off he realised it would be wise to quit Biggin Hill. However, there was a small matter of his personal belongings that must be considered, which were of course neatly stashed away in his bedside locker at Biggin Hill. He therefore decided this problem was his top priority and must be sorted. Next he would make his way back to Warlingham again and do some serious thinking.

  Having then made up his mind, the bogus corporal executed an excellent three-point turn in his newly acquired Vauxhall car, and began to make his way to Biggin Hill airfield. The idea being to drive as close to the airfield that he considered to be reasonably safe, leave the car, cut across one of the adjoining fields, slip into his barrack room and relieve the locker of his personal belongings. After achieving this it would be straight back to car and on to Warlingham.

  *

  While breaking the speed limit, well on our way to Biggin Hill aerodrome, DI. Selby suddenly gave a few orders “Look Bill” he began turning towards me “when we get there you nip round back of the actual airfield, see if you can slip through a hedgerow of a neighbouring field somehow, then on into their living quarters, you never know you may surprise someone” Selby said all this as though we knew exactly what we were doing, which of course we didn’t. “Never mind” I assured him “I’d be on me toes”. He gave me a satisfied grin, then to DC. Willis added “And you Tony will stay with me” and that as they say ‘was that’. Willis drove on in silence while Dave and I sat smoking on the back seat.

  It must have been all of ten minutes later when we heard a siren starting to wail in the distance, and before the bloody thing fell silent two bloody bombs exploded in a field on our right, then a set of Pom Pom guns shattered the peaceful countryside with that distasteful pop-pop-pop, which had tormented us every bloody night since that great man warned us the battle of Britain must now begin. On reaching Biggin Hill, I did as Dave had commanded and slipped into a nearby field, then without any trouble at all worked my way onto the airfield itself. From there I made a spectacular dash for a row of huts I could see just off to my left. As I entered the first hut all hell broke loose, it appeared as though every gun they possessed on that poxy field opened fire at once, making an unbelievable racket. Even so, through it all I still heard two or three Stuka dive bombers come screaming down and release several sets of bombs. I naturally dived under a nearby bed for protection.

  As it started to quieten down, the door through which I had entered suddenly flew open and banged shut, a voice screamed “Mein Gott”. I rolled quickly from under the bed, came to my knees ready for action. ‘Good, we’ve got our man’ I thought, came off my knees swinging a vicious right hand and carried on swinging, that is until a bleeding train smashed straight into my face. Although it did nothing towards sweetening my disposition, it nevertheless somehow left me sharper, much quicker on my feet. So there I was ducking and weaving all round this sodden room, but then suddenly as the effects of that bloody train began to subside, I found myself jabbing at shadows and swinging at nothing more than bloody air.

  19:

  A CHANGE OF IDENTITY

  Coming back to reality was a very weird experience, I could hear Dave saying “Calm down Bill, calm down” and yet another voice kept repeating over and over “Watch out there’s a machine gun on our right”. Then quite suddenly my head was clear. The voice worrying about the machine gun had obviously been mine. Dave’s face came into focus, he sighed “Thank Christ for that” he mumbled as the worry drained from his face. “Thank Christ for what?” I rationally enquired. “You, yer silly sod” Dave answered with a smile and took an already lit cigarette from DC. Willis, claimed one drag for himself then passed it onto me. He next demanded, “What the bleedin’ ‘ell ‘appened ‘ere then?” So I began my story at the point where I’d negotiated my way through the hedgerow of an adjoining field.

  *

  After throwing a tin hat, which he’d scooped off someone’s bed, into DS Augers face and seeing his adversary was now disorientated, the bogus Cpl: Fletcher moved swiftly to a large locker that stood beside a single bed, lifted a suitcase from under the bed and stuffed everything from locker into case, then smartly slipped out of the barrack room door, leaving DS Auger dancing around punching at shadows.

  Back at the car which he had left a few hundred yards away from the airfield, he found that it was beginning to get dark. He therefore quickly opened the boot of the car, slung his suitcase inside, jumped in behind the wheel and began to make his way towards Warlingham. He realised of course that at some point he must dispense with the car and continue his journey on foot. Nevertheless he thought, it would be well worth it in the long run, just to spend a night in Sally, his landlady’s bed. He’d known for a while that Sally had taken a liking to him, and therefore the next move was now up to him.

  *

  “Christ that means yer ‘ad the bugger, why in ‘eavens name didn’t yer give us a bleedin’ call for Christ sake?” Dave raved. “Coz I stepped in front of a bloody train, that’s why me ol’ mate,” I defiantly replied while running my fingers over my face, trying to locate any damage I may have sustained. “Alright, any idea what the sod looked like?” Dave asked. “‘Ain’t gotta clue mate, can tell yer one thing though, he was big, at least six foot. I clouted ‘im with one punch which caught ‘im on the chest, where I thought his face should ‘ave been” I cooed back at Dave with a faint smile.

  *

  After dumping his car in a small ditch behind a row of bushes near a place called Farleigh, Cpl: Fletcher had wiped all fingerprints from various parts of the vehicle, yet gave no thought to any other clue such as blood that may have stained the seats, in fact he had neglected many other unseen clues for that matter. Once again using his thumb he made his way back to Warlingham.

  Entering the lodging house he purposely allowed the front door to bang shut behind him, just in case his landlady was entertaining someone. However now on seeing her glide gracefully down the stairs to greet him with that beautiful smiling face, it suddenly dawned on him just how desirable this woman really was, with a set of gleaming white teeth that seemed to flash through warm inviting well-shaped lips. A pair of deep blue eyes, all framed by a well-groomed hip length tangle of auburn hair, plus a slim well-rounded figure, with long shapely legs, which he somehow knew were going to be wrapped around him that very night.

  On hearing the front door bang shut Sally, Cpl: Fletchers’ landlady, knew at once the corporal was back. She took a quick look at herself in a mirror, tidied her hair, straightened her dress and began to make her way down to meet him. As she did so, she started to wonder if this tall attractive man would maybe for once respond to her feminine charms.

  *

  DI Dave Selby, DC Tony Willis along with myself DS Auger, all stood around the car smoking, I casually put forward my revelation “That’s one thi
ng Tony got right anyway” I informed DI Selby. “Yeah and what would that be Bill?” Selby enquired of me. “Well he did say Biggin ‘ill is where our man would be, and he was bleedin’ spot on there, wasn’t he?” I replied. Dave looked from me to Tony “Yer know, yer bloody right at that, good work Tony” Dave said nodding to DC Willis. He then turned back to me with a half smile “and now I suppose we should ask our bright lad if he knows where next our man will be” Dave put forward with a touch of sarcasm, yet in a pleasant enough tone. “Who the bloody ‘ell knows, perhaps he does, why don’t yer ask ‘im?” I invited. So Dave smiled and glanced at Willis “Well, any ideas son?” he mumbled. Tony returned Dave’s smile, then with eyes settling on me replied “As a matter of fact I do” he then went silent. “Oh come on for Christ sake, don’t keep us in bloody suspense son” Dave growled. I looked at Tony’s face, there was a far away look in his eyes. “Yer know, I think that’s bloody obvious Sir, yer see ‘avin’ now retired from the RAF as it were, which we can now assume on account of the bugger going to so much trouble to remove everythin’ from his locker, now he’ll be left with only one option, his lodgings, and that Sir is where we’ll find ‘im. The question now is, where the bloody ‘ell’s that?” came the final result of so much mental energy.